The Price You Pay
by SnapeCheerleader
Summary: In the final days of Lord Voldemort's rise, a younger Severus Snape is about to learn that in the dangerous game he's playing, betrayal can come from anywhere. A different take on why Snape hates Harry SO much, starts post-GoF and goes back to Voldemort'
1. Teaser Intro

NOTE: Hogwarts and the characters and concepts in Harry Potter belong to the fabulous J.K. Rowling, and of course I make no claim to own them. If I owned them, Snape would have been given a background and a story long before Book #4, but that's irrelevant....

Okay, this is my first fanfiction ever, so PLEASE read and review or I'll probably just give up on this writing thing. This is just the introduction to this story, and I'm not completely sure where I'm going with it or even if I'm gonna finish it at all. This will depend on the response I get from this little teaser intro. (Hint, hint, hint....) I actually wrote this introduction and came up with the concept for the story BEFORE Goblet of Fire was released (including Snape being a double-agent) and then went back and changed some things to fit GoF. I know Snape is a little out of character in the first scene, but there are reasons to be revealed later (the story will skip around in time quite a bit...if it gets written). So, with no further ado, my story of why Snape is as he is and why he hates Harry Potter so much....

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The Price You Pay

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In the final days of Lord Voldemort's rise, a younger Severus Snape is about to learn that in the dangerous game he's playing, betrayal can come from anywhere.

Severus Snape stood in the doorway of his dungeon office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, gazing around contemplatively at the stone walls. He marveled at the fact that this room had somehow, miraculously, come to feel like...well, not home really. But the closest thing to it he'd had in thirteen years. At that time, he would have scoffed at the idea that he would feel any remorse at leaving his teaching post at Hogwarts...and it was with the wonder that always comes with self-discovery that he realized it now. Now, when he knew he might never see any of it again.

"This is crazy," he thought for the thousandth time since he had agreed to go on this insane mission for Albus Dumbledore. "I'm going to get myself killed," he muttered out loud. "Am I so far gone that I truly think Lord Voldemort won't figure out I'm not really on his side?"

"No," he thought. "Of course he'll see through this." After tonight he was a walking dead man, as far as Snape was concerned. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling again the horror that had gripped him ever since the Dark Mark had started to reappear on his arm. "It's all happening again," Snape whispered.

Almost, he went to Dumbledore and backed out, told the Headmaster it was just too dangerous, he couldn't afford to pay such a heavy price as he already had once in his life. Almost. But an overwhelming desire for vengeance--revenge against the Dark Lord for what had happened all those years ago--was too overpowering. Remembering that night--the most terrible night in his memory--Severus Snape knew what he had to do. Even if it cost him his life, which it surely would in the end.

He swallowed, his grim, determined face masking the chill, sick feeling of horror he still felt every time he thought about that day.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Avada Kedavra!"

The word echoed ominously through the small clearing in the woods where the two opponents stood facing eachother, wands drawn. A flash of brilliant green light filled the air, and slowly one of the figures crumpled to the ground.

Severus Snape, twenty-two years old, stood staring at the body of the older wizard that lay in front of him, his whole body trembling. Severus's wand hand was still pointing at the prone figure of the old Auror where he lay at his feet, and the knuckles clutching the wand were white with tension. The green afterglow from his spell was just beginning to fade from his eyes.

__

I just killed someone, a little voice was saying incredulously in the back of his mind. _What have I gotten myself into?_ There was something brave and courageous--honorable, even--in the felled body of the Auror, even in death. It was at that moment, staring at the crumpled form in front of him, that Severus Snape first began to regret his commitment to Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Little did he know that it was just the beginning of the disillusionment and loss he would suffer before it was all over.

Severus Snape had just graduated from Hogwarts, an intelligent young wizard of only seventeen, when he first started attending Death Eater meetings with his old Slytherin housemates. He wouldn't call them friends, not really--he was too much of a loner for that--but they were entertaining and exciting, and they filled the void that his graduation from Hogwarts had left.

Like so many other young people of the last three hundred years and more, Severus was attracted to the political movement of his time that seemed the most revolutionary, the most anti-establishment. That this just happened to be Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters was a stroke of bad luck that the young Snape would unwittingly pay for all his life.

But at the time, all he knew was that the world was changing, fast. There was an excitement in the air of new ideas and shifting ideals--and Severus Snape wanted to be a part of it, on top of the new order that he believed was sure to rise from the ashes of the old.

And so he became a Death Eater with all of his housemates. Except that Snape was smarter than most of them, and therefore more useful to the Dark Lord. As the years passed and Voldemort continued to rise in power, Snape's quick mind and natural wizarding ability--especially at the art of Potions--quickly made him one of the dark wizard's youngest and closest advisors.

Severus's parents were tolerant of their son's allegiances, although he was the only Snape so closely allied with the Dark Lord. Severus's young sister, Robin, was still at Hogwarts, and his brother Charles, two years older than him, was employed by Gringotts Bank. Too self-centered to ever be anything but apathetic when it came to politics, Snape always thought. Their father, Lucien, was the owner of the largest Potions supplier in the world. He was neither a supporter of the Ministry nor of Voldemort, but rather (in his own words) a supporter of profit, willing to sell his allegiance to the highest bidder.

On that particular day, almost five years after his graduation, Severus took the final step in declaring his loyalty to Voldemort, and at the same time discovered the first seed of doubt in his own mind. He took a human life, and for the first time experienced true remorse.

That day was significant for another reason as well. It was that day, when he came home to the house he still shared with his parents and sister, that he first met Erin. Erin Davies, her name was, and she was over at their house for dinner. She was beautiful, with long auburn hair that reached her shoulders and framed her angelic face. Her deep brown eyes twinkled seductively when she laughed, which was often. By the end of the night, although still in a troubled state over the events of the afternoon, Severus was convinced that he was in love with her.

There was only one problem: She was his brother Charles's girlfriend.

And so, in that one fateful day, the stage was set for the tragic events that were soon to tear the Snape family apart forever and turn Severus Snape, later to become the hated, reclusive Potions master at Hogwarts School, into an almost-unrecognizable shell of the young man he once was.

A/N: Please tell me what you think! This is my first fanfic, so I need encouragement. I am also, of course, open to suggestions and negative comments as long as they're constructive....


	2. Part 1--The Readiness is All

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The Price You Pay  
Part One -- The Readiness Is All

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In the final days of Lord Voldemort's rise, a younger Severus Snape is about to learn that in the dangerous game he's playing, betrayal can come from anywhere.

A/N: Okay, I posted the intro to this story, my first-ever fan fiction, at the end of last summer and got some very nice comments (thank you so much to everyone who reviewed this the first time!) and had every intention of finishing it. Then I went off on self-imposed computer exile while I was working day and night on a presidential campaign, and now that the election is over (err, umm, kinda....) I DO plan on picking it back up again! This is the first part, it will probably end up about 3 parts long. The Price You Pay takes place post-GoF, the beginning of summer after Harry's fourth year, but flashes back to Voldemort's first rise.

The first part is really...slow, I guess...I don't like it very much at all. I'll continue if I get good reviews, though, since the remaining parts will actually have some action instead of just background info and random history lessons....

NOTE: Of course, Hogwarts and the characters and concepts in Harry Potter belong to the fabulous J.K. Rowling, and of course I make no claim to own them. If I owned them, Snape would have been given a background and a story long before Book #4, but that's irrelevant....

Part One -- "The Readiness Is All"

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Severus Snape stood in the doorway of his dungeon office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, gazing around contemplatively at the stone walls. He marveled at the fact that this room had somehow, miraculously, come to feel like...well, not home really. But the closest thing to it he'd had in thirteen years. At that time, he would have scoffed at the idea that he would feel any remorse at leaving his teaching post at Hogwarts...and it was with the wonder that always comes with self-discovery that he realized it now. Now, when he knew he might never see any of it again.

"This is crazy," he thought for the thousandth time since he had agreed to go on this insane mission for Albus Dumbledore. "I'm going to get myself killed," he muttered out loud. "Am I so far gone that I truly think Lord Voldemort won't figure out I'm not really on his side?"

"No," he thought. "Of course he'll see through this." After tonight he was a walking dead man, as far as Snape was concerned. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling again the horror that had gripped him ever since the Dark Mark had started to reappear on his arm. "It's all happening again," Snape whispered.

Almost, he went to Dumbledore and backed out, told the Headmaster it was just too dangerous, he couldn't afford to pay such a heavy price as he already had once in his life. Almost. But an overwhelming desire for vengeance--revenge against the Dark Lord for what had happened all those years ago--was too overpowering. Remembering that night--the most terrible night in his memory--Severus Snape knew what he had to do. Even if it cost him his life, which it surely would in the end.

He swallowed, his grim, determined face masking the chill, sick feeling of horror he still felt every time he thought about that day.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Avada Kedavra!"

The word echoed ominously through the small clearing in the woods where the two opponents stood facing each other, wands drawn. A flash of brilliant green light filled the air, and slowly one of the figures crumpled to the ground.

Severus Snape, twenty years old, stood staring at the body of the older wizard that lay in front of him, his whole body trembling. Severus's wand hand was still pointing at the prone figure of the old Auror where he lay at his feet, and the knuckles clutching the wand were white with tension. The green afterglow from his spell was just beginning to fade from his eyes.

I just killed someone, a little voice was saying incredulously in the back of his mind. What have I gotten myself into? There was something brave and courageous--honorable, even--in the felled body of the Auror, even in death. It was at that moment, staring at the crumpled form in front of him, that Severus Snape first began to regret his commitment to Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Little did he know that it was just the beginning of the disillusionment and loss he would suffer before it was all over.

Severus Snape had just graduated from Hogwarts, an intelligent young wizard of only seventeen, when he first started attending Death Eater meetings with his old Slytherin housemates. He wouldn't call them friends, not really--he was too much of a loner for that--but they were entertaining and exciting, and they filled the void that his graduation from Hogwarts had left.

Like so many other young people of the last three hundred years and more, Severus was attracted to the political movement of his time that seemed the most revolutionary, the most anti-establishment. That this just happened to be Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters was a stroke of bad luck that the young Snape would unwittingly pay for all his life.

But at the time, all he knew was that the world was changing, fast. There was an excitement in the air of new ideas and shifting ideals--and Severus Snape wanted to be a part of it, on top of the new order that he believed was sure to rise from the ashes of the old.

And so he became a Death Eater with his housemates. Except that Snape was smarter than most of them, and therefore more useful to the Dark Lord. As the years passed and Voldemort continued to rise in power, Snape's quick mind and natural wizarding ability--especially at the art of Potions--quickly made him one of the dark wizard's youngest and closest advisors.

Severus's parents were tolerant of their son's allegiances, although he was the only Snape so closely allied with the Dark Lord. Severus's young sister, Robin, was still at Hogwarts, and his brother Charles, two years older than Severus, was employed by Gringotts Bank. Too self-centered to ever be anything but apathetic when it came to politics, Snape thought privately. Their father, Lucien, was the owner of the largest Potions supplier in the world. He was neither a supporter of the Ministry nor of Voldemort, but rather (in his own words) a supporter of profit, willing to sell his allegiance to the highest bidder. Lucien sold Potions supplies to the two sides equally, earning the money and contempt of both.

On that particular day, almost three years after his graduation, Severus took the final step in declaring his loyalty to Voldemort, and at the same time discovered the first seed of doubt in his own mind. He took a human life, and for the first time experienced true remorse.

That day was significant for another reason as well. It was that day, when he came home to the house he still shared with his parents and sister, that he first met Erin. Erin Davies, her name was, and she was over at their house for dinner. She was beautiful, with long auburn hair that reached her shoulders and framed her angelic face. Her deep brown eyes twinkled seductively when she laughed, which was often. By the end of the night, Severus was convinced he was in love with her.

There was only one problem: She was his brother Charles's girlfriend.

And so, in that one fateful day, the stage was set for the tragic events that were soon to tear the Snape family apart forever and turn Severus Snape, later to become the hated, reclusive Potions master at Hogwarts School, into an almost unrecognizable shell of the young man he once was.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

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After a final glance at his office, Professor Snape shut the door and locked it with a tap of his wand. He set out for Dumbledore's office, but as he passed the dungeon entrance to Slytherin House his walk slowed to a halt. Not knowing exactly what he was doing, he murmured the password to the surprised-looking statue that guarded the entrance, and the door swung open to admit him.

Snape walked into the empty House common room and looked around. Now, standing there, he felt completely like an idiot. What had he expected? All the students had left yesterday, off for summer vacations and time with family.

And he stopped the thought there, unwilling to follow it any further.

"Alright, Snape," he muttered irritably. "Enough of the pathetic farewell tour. Just go tell Dumbledore you're going and leave_ already. When you end up back here next fall opening the place up again you're gonna feel pretty stupid for this little melodrama."_

But before he left there was one more thing he had to do, just to remind himself what he was getting into before he sealed his fate. And for some reason he couldn't figure out, or maybe just didn't want to admit to himself, he had to do it here.

Shaking his head at himself, Snape sat down in the armchair that had once been his favorite. Reaching into his robes, he took out the letter he carried with him always. A reminder, even though he prayed every day to forget. The small piece of parchment looked like it had seen better days. It bore the creases of a decade of folding and unfolding, and there was a deep red stain in one of the corners. He didn't have to read it at all--he knew the words by heart now--but Snape unfolded it anyway.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Erin and I have an announcement to make."

Severus's head snapped up at his brother's voice across the dinner table. He looked over at where Charles sat, holding Erin's hand on top of the table. She was just as beautiful as ever, and Severus felt his stomach twist in jealousy. It had been a year since the day Charles had first brought Erin to dinner at his parents' house, and a year since Severus had fallen in love with her. A year, he thought dully.

It had also been a year since Snape had first killed another, first used the last and worst of the Unforgivable Curses that were Voldemort's trademark. He half-laughed silently, bitterly, at the memory of that old Auror laying in the woods. He still vividly remembered the way he'd felt, staring at the old wizard's body. Had he only known at the time how much worse it would get, the things he would see in the year to come as one of Voldemort's inner circle...."You would have done what, Severus?" he asked himself sarcastically. "Gotten out?" He'd tried that, and all he'd accomplished was to get himself further entangled in the snare.

Forcibly, he pulled his attention back to the present, where everyone at the table was focused on Charles and Erin. The two young wizards smiled at each other with a shared, private look that made Severus feel vaguely nauseous. Then Charles smiled at his father across the table. "We've decided to get married in the fall."

Very slowly, Severus set down the glass he was holding. Well, that decided it. Now he _was_ going to be sick. His parents were solemnly congratulating the couple, and Robin had jumped to her feet with a happy shriek to hug her brother. Severus pushed his plate away and stood up, and instantly the conversation at the table stopped in surprise. Snape saw his parents looking at him questioningly, but his eyes were locked with Charles's. His brother's eyes held not a question, but a look of suspicion. Finally Severus managed to find words, a sort of strangled whisper.

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"Congratulations."

There was a heavy silence around the table, broken again by Severus. "I have to go, I have an appointment," he mumbled, turning on his heels and getting out of the house as fast as he possibly could.

He hadn't been lying, he did have something he had to do. He found his broom, apparated as close to Hogwarts as you could, and walked the rest of the way in, glancing around him nervously as always. It was early summer and the students had all gone home, but the staff was still there. Severus ducked through the halls hoping to avoid everyone, both because he wasn't in the mood for polite conversation and because he had learned never to trust anyone he didn't know well. He found Dumbledore in his office, frowning in concentration at a scroll of paper on his desk. The old wizard rose when Snape opened the door with a quick knock.

"Headmaster," Snape said, bowing his head slightly in deference as he stepped into the office.

"Really, Severus, you're not a student anymore," Dumbledore pointed out with his usual smile. "I do have a name."

Dumbledore was smiling, but the twinkling eyes that Snape remembered from his days as a Slytherin were missing. Instead, the headmaster gazed at Snape with the quiet look of disappointment that Severus knew he would never get used to. "I take it you can't stay long," Dumbledore asked.

Snape shook his head, and the headmaster gestured him to a seat across from his desk before sitting down himself. The aged wizard regarded Snape for a long moment, his fingers templed under his chin. "Well?" he asked finally.

Snape sighed, looking down at his hands to avoid the look in his old headmaster's eyes. It seemed like every time he came here, Dumbledore looked more worried. He knew the news he brought tonight wouldn't help. "James Potter," he said quietly. His voice was completely devoid of emotion. Then he grimaced and added, "And Lily and their son."

Dumbledore's head snapped up in surprise, and he gazed at him with a contemplative look Snape couldn't read. "Are you sure?"

Severus nodded wordlessly.

There was a long moment of silence before Dumbledore asked, "Is that all?"

"No." Another heavy silence, and then, "There's a traitor on your side, someone who--"

"_Our_ side now, Severus," Dumbledore pointed out firmly.

Severus had enough to grace to accept the rebuke with a nod, but he pressed on. "Tell Potter to run. Tell no one where he's going, just take his wife and kid and run until this is all over."

Dumbledore had a very far-away look in his eyes, and he nodded slowly. "A Secret-Keeper, maybe..." he said thoughtfully, talking to himself.

"Don't tell me!" Severus snapped abruptly, angrily.

The headmaster looked up at him, that same disappointment in his eyes, and all of a sudden he sounded very much like a professor again. "To be honest, Master Snape, I hadn't planned on it. Now, who is this traitor?"

"I don't know," Severus replied, and he would've been blind to miss the sharp suspicion in Dumbledore's return expression. "Someone close to Potter, that's all I can tell you," Snape mumbled, feeling like he had just been stabbed through the heart at his headmaster's clear look of distrust. It was becoming a familiar feeling, in these last few hours, he thought bitterly.

Then he stood up. "I have to go, I've been here too long already," he explained. Dumbledore nodded and extended his hand, which Snape quickly shook.

"If you find out..." Dumbledore started.

"Of course." With that, Snape turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Walking swiftly, he made it to the edge of the Forbidden Forest before stopping. There, the nearest point where Apparating was possible, he stopped and leaned heavily against a large tree, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to block out another horrible session in Dumbledore's office.

It had been a month since he'd first gone to Dumbledore in desperation. He would never be able answer what exactly had finally decided him, but at some point it had become obvious to Snape that he had to get out of the Death Eaters. Maybe it had been the look on the face of his old Ravenclaw herbology partner seconds before being reduced to nothing but a red splatter on the wall. Or maybe it had just been a realization that Voldemort was going too far.

Snape remembered reading in a Muggle history book about Field Marshal Erwin Rommel, Adolf Hitler's favorite general in the Second World War, who had fought faithfully for years not because the great "cause" of _Lebensraum_ meant anything to him but because he was a soldier, plain and simple, and his country was at war. As the war progressed and it had become painfully clear that Hitler's plan was beyond evil, the "Desert Fox" had given his tacit agreement to a plot to arrest or assassinate the _Fuhrer._

Maybe that was why Snape had gone to Dumbledore. Because he had learned that he had so much in common with one of the Muggles Voldemort despised so greatly. Because he knew exactly the feeling Rommel must have known, torn between the life he had always known and the morals he was only recently discovering he had....Snape tried not to think about Rommel's death, the condolence letter from Hitler to his family typed in Berlin a few hours _before_ the esteemed general had taken his own life....

For whatever reason, Severus had gone to Dumbledore with the complete faith in him that every Hogwarts student had, sure that the headmaster could solve any problem. He could still remember Dumbledore's reply after Severus had told his story:

"Severus, I think you know as well as I do that you can never get out now."

"But--" he had protested, even though he knew--like he always had--that Dumbledore was right.

And Dumbledore had offered him a proposal. If he was willing to take the risk, Dumbledore would feed him just enough information to solidify his position with Voldemort as a valid spy for the Death Eaters. In return, he would play the role of double agent, feeding information to Dumbledore and the resistance as well. Severus had accepted, and thought things would improve at last.

He had been wrong. For a month he'd been walking the very fine line between life and death, and he had quickly learned that Voldemort expected much of his spies. It had only taken a few uses of the Cruciatus curse for Severus to learn that the information Dumbledore provided him wasn't enough to keep the Dark Lord happy. He shuddered, remembering the awful feeling of every pain nerve in his body firing at once until he couldn't move, couldn't breathe, wouldn't even be sure he was still alive at all if not for the pain that made it so clear he still was....

So Snape had spent the last month playing both ends against the middle, giving neither side as much as they wanted and both sides more than their enemies guessed. But even the pain of the Cruciatus curse wasn't as bad as the meetings with Dumbledore. The look of disappointment that Dumbledore wore whenever he looked at him was more than Snape could bear. He couldn't _blame_ the headmaster, of course, especially since every day he betrayed his trust further. But he didn't know how else to stay alive.

He was trapped, caught in some horrible hell of his own making with no end in sight.

Jerking himself away from the tree with an abrupt movement, Snape shook his head and apparated out.

When he arrived home, he found the dining room empty. Good. Hopefully Charles and Erin had gone home. Snape wandered into the kitchen to wash his hands, something he found himself doing more and more of lately. He felt like Lady Macbeth. The blood never seemed to come out, no matter what he did.

Standing at the sink, he was startled to feel a hand on his back and to hear a soft voice ask, "Are you okay, Severus?"

He whipped around. It was Erin.

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A/N: Is Snape starting to crack? Not yet. But he will. Things always get worse before they get better in stories, after all.

Reviews are HUGELY appreciated, since this is my first dabble into the world of fan fiction and I'm really insecure about how this story's turning out! :-) Praise is wonderful, constructive criticism is just as welcome, and even semi-gentle flames will be tolerated with a smile, though maybe a slightly put-upon smile....

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed the intro to this when I posted it FOREVER ago!


	3. Part 2--Crossing the Rubicon

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The Price You Pay  
Part Two -- Crossing the Rubicon

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In the final days of Lord Voldemort's rise, a younger Severus Snape is about to learn that in the dangerous game he's playing, betrayal can come from anywhere.

A/N: Okay, here's the next part of my Snapefic, my first fanfic. Again, half is post-GoF, half is flashbacks to Voldemort's first rise. One more part to go after this, I think, if I end up writing it. Not sure whether to put this in Drama or Mystery, it's really both.

Ick, I REALLY don't like this story, but oh well. I don't think anyone's ever done quite this take on Snape's past, though, so we'll see. I'll finish it IF I get enough reviews. Thanks to those who reviewed the first part, and also the introduction when it was posted back in August or whenever--reviews mean a lot to me!

For back chapters, click on my pen name (obviously)!

NOTE: Of course, Hogwarts and the characters and concepts in Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling, and I make no claims to own them. I'm not making any money off this story, obviously. The title of the first part belongs to William Shakespeare, not me, but I'm sure everyone realized that!

Part Two -- "Crossing the Rubicon"

Severus felt strangely like the whole world had just dropped out from underneath him and he was in free fall, helpless to do anything. His stomach was somewhere north of where it was surely supposed to be, and his head spun just looking at her.

"What?" he asked finally, the words sounding hollow in his ears.

Very gently, Erin touched his hand with hers, giving him a puzzled look. "You ran out of here so fast, I just wondered if you were okay," she said questioningly.

"What?" Snape repeated, feeling like a complete idiot at his sudden inability to process the English language. "Oh. Yeah. Fine. Meeting. Urgent," he stuttered haltingly. He couldn't even remember what the meeting had been about. His entire vocabulary had evidently been reduced to one-syllable words and one-word sentences.

Erin gave him a puzzled smile, the kind of look you give a lost puppy. Severus knew he should be offended by the condescension, but instead his heart just melted further. "Have you talked to Charles?" he heard her ask.

Charles? Oh yeah. His brother. _Her fiancée_. The word slammed him back into consciousness with all the force of a freight train hitting him. "No," he managed in a strange, semi-strangled voice.

She smiled again, and Severus had to swallow very hard to keep himself from breaking down and shouting to the world that he was in love with her, that he never wanted to leave this room, this moment, because if they did then she would be his brother's fiancé again and he would be...well, he would be himself. That was self-explanatory enough, as far as Snape was concerned. He would be himself, and he would still be in the mess his life had become.

"Well, he was going to find you and ask you a question, but I guess since I found you first, I get to ask," she said lightly, rolling her eyes good-naturedly at Charles's forgetfulness. The expression on her face at that moment, a look of simple, uncalculated happiness and love, felt like a dagger being driven through Severus's heart.

Erin didn't seem to notice. "Anyway," she said, pausing dramatically, her eyes sparkling. "We were wondering....Will you be best man at our wedding?"

The dagger in Snape's heart twisted, driving in further.

It was a long moment before he could breathe again, find enough air to answer her question. If she had asked him to perform the Cruciatus curse on himself at that moment, he would have done so willingly. Maybe even topped it off with Avada Kedavra, just to prove his love. But this request, asked so innocently, was much harder to bear.

He must have looked shocked, because Erin took his hand again with a concerned look. Her mere touch sent shock waves rippling through his body, and he caught his breath sharply. She was so innocent, so blind in her love for his brother that she must not have noticed the look in his eyes. She didn't mean to be cruel, she thought her gesture was made out of the kindness of people who are soon to be family. Erin couldn't know that it almost killed him.

Snape was saved from answering by his brother's voice from the doorway.

"Erin, darling, please tell me you haven't gone and asked him for me," Charles Snape drawled, leaning against the doorframe casually.

Charles was smiling at his brother and fiancée, but Severus had known him too long to miss the sharp suspicion in his brother's eyes as he looked between the two. Severus yanked his hand away from Erin's, and Charles walked over and wrapped his arms around her possessively. He never broke eye contact with Severus, and the look in his eyes made Snape shiver involuntarily.

Severus, pining away with love for Erin, was in a position to see the bitter truth that Erin regarded him as nothing more than a little brother, someone to be concerned about, friendly with...nothing more. Charles, however, obviously was concerned about his soon-to-be-wife's fidelity already. He doesn't deserve her, Severus thought harshly, interpreting correctly the look on his brother's face.

Charles may not have been a Death Eater, but in some ways he was a better Slytherin than Severus ever would or could be. He was handsome, and funny, and had all the outward appearances of a normal person. But Severus knew another side to his brother existed. Charles at heart was the perfect Machiavellian: cunning, amoral, oppurtunist, and, above all, manipulative. The ends justify the means, it is better to be feared than loved, _Realpolitik_ to the end.

But Severus had never seen this suspicious, mistrusting side of his brother turned against him, and in some ways it cut deeper than anything Erin could ever make him feel.

Charles gave Erin a quick kiss and a whispered "I love you," then smiled at her. "Listen, I want to talk to Severus alone for a minute. Wait for me and we'll go back to London afterwards, okay?"

Erin nodded, returned his kiss with one of her own (Severus was turning slightly green by this point), and waltzed out of the room after a quick, sisterly smile at Severus.

As soon as she was gone, Charles turned to face his younger brother. There was a tense moment of silence before Charles asked, "What exactly do you think you're doing, Severus?"

"Am I doing something, Charles?" Snape asked in an attempt at innocence.

"You know perfectly well you've been acting strangely," Charles responded. He was examining Severus severely, his frown suspicious and thoughtful.

Severus said the only thing he could think of that would get his brother off his case. Worrying about Erin's love for him was ridiculous--she was obviously devoted to Charles. That was the _problem_, as far as Severus was concerned, but Charles evidently didn't see it. "Listen, congratulations," he said lightly. "I'd love to be your best man, it's an honor to be asked." Even Snape was surprised at how sincere he sounded. The last month trying to appear like he was still on Voldemort's side had obviously taught him something about acting.

And it worked, or so Snape thought at the time. A tragic mistake, but to blame Snape is to blame him for trusting his own flesh and blood. Charles visibly relaxed, the tension going out of his shoulders. He smiled, his old self again. "Glad to hear it, thanks, man."

Then all of a sudden, the frown returned to Charles's face. "You know, I wasn't kidding when I said you've been acting strangely," he said, his voice concerned. "Anything you want to talk about?"

It never failed. Charles was Severus Snape's only confidant on earth, they had been closer than most brothers since their days in Slytherin together, those endless late-night hours spent curled up in the common room armchairs teaching themselves the Dark Arts from old books smuggled from home, more out of pure fascination than a plan to _use_ them. And so Severus found himself completely disarmed again, and he sighed in frustration.

"You know what I've been doing, right?" he asked, feeling very tired all of a sudden.

Charles nodded, a grin flashing across his features for a brief instant. "Plotting revolution," he replied in a light tone. "War. Overthrow of the Ministry, takeover of the Muggle world." Then the smile was gone, as fast as it had come. "I've heard you're getting to be a big-shot, too. Severus Snape, Lord Voldemort's trusted advisor." He paused, regarding his brother thoughtfully. "But there's more to this than that, I think. You can tell me, Severus. You can trust me, you know."

"Of course," Snape replied, never questioning this statement for a moment. He looked at his older brother, and all of a sudden everything that had happened in the last month came tumbling out. His disillusionment with Voldemort's cause, his painful meetings with Dumbledore and the mistrust and disappointment that constantly invaded the old headmaster's gaze, his continued acceptance into the Death Eaters' inner circle. And most of all the constant, nagging self-hatred that he was revealing more to Voldemort than Dumbledore knew just to stay alive.

It took over an hour for Snape to finish his story, during which time he poured out his heart and soul to his brother. Charles was sympathetic in all the right places, caring and brotherly and concerned, and by the end of the tale Severus was devastatingly guilty that he had ever caused Charles to question his own fiancée's loyalty.

Charles took his leave, explaining that it was late and he had to be at work in London in the morning. He stopped in the doorway and looked around at Severus for a moment before disappearing, a strange look in his eyes that Snape couldn't interpret, but would remember for the rest of his life.

A faint hint of suspicion had returned to Charles's eyes, but the overpowering expression on his face was something much closer to triumph.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

__

Professor Snape, still sitting in the deserted Slytherin common room on the armchair where he had once spent countless hours with his older brother practicing spells he now tried every day to forget he knew on innocent spiders and flies, folded the letter again. This was the last time he would ever read it. The promise contained within its simple text had come full circle. He no longer needed the reminder. The letter was a weight he had carried for over a decade, and he would bear the burden of it for the rest of his life. But the physical object no longer had any significance.

Snape walked over to the fireplace, knelt down, and set the letter on the cold stone. Then he stood up and took a few steps backward, taking out his wand. He pointed it at the parchment and at his quiet "Incendo," the little slip of paper burst into flame.

He turned around and walked to the door, leaving the fire to burn itself it. Before he closed the door to the common room behind him, however, Snape turned around one more time to scan the room. He could still remember the feeling of wonder and delight he'd had as a student, as his power at Dark magic grew with each hour of practice, as he realized that he was a better wizard than his brother, a better wizard than most of his Housemates.

At that instant, as he locked the door to Slytherin House, Severus Snape would have given it all up without a moment's hesitation.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

A week passed, and then a month, and young Severus Snape was still caught in the hell of his own making. Every meeting, Dumbledore pressed him for the name of the traitor set to betray James and Lily Potter, and every meeting Snape had nothing more to offer. He could see Dumbledore's urgency growing, tension and worry replacing disappointment now in the headmaster's eyes.

Severus imagined the stress he must be under, with new stories surfacing every day of Aurors and other wizards known to be sympathetic to the Ministry found dead, usually in horribly violent ways. Often nowadays there was nothing left for the families to bury...just a pool of deep red blood soaking through the leaves in a clearing in the woods or decorating the carpet of a home, an unmarked grave except for the Dark Mark hovering in the air as a warning to those who continued to resist the Dark Lord's rise.

In these dangerous and swiftly-changing times, the Dark Mark's presence was becoming the only constant.

Time was running out for the Resistance, and both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore knew it.

Severus saw little of his parents and sister, home from Hogwarts for the summer, and even less of Charles and Erin. Every moment now seemed to be taken up by Death Eater meetings, or tense conferences in Dumbledore's office, or other tasks for Voldemort that Snape came to regret more every day but couldn't stop, couldn't risk incurring Voldemort's suspicion.

His drive came now from more than a desire to stay alive. He truly and fervently loathed his master and everything Voldemort stood for now, and his hatred only grew with each passing day and each passing murder. If he died in the cause of the Resistance, Severus knew his death would have been justified. But he also recognized that his continued service as a spy was crucial to whatever small chance of victory Dumbledore's side had. He couldn't get himself killed.

So he was forced to continue his dangerous game of playing both ends against the middle, going behind Dumbledore's back and feeding Voldemort more information than the headmaster knew. He always tried to give up only the least crucial elements, the things Voldemort could probably find out other ways. But it was impossible to always guess right, and in this particular game the margin of error was zero.

And so some Resistance plots were inevitably blown wide open by the Death Eaters, almost always resulting in yet more blood gracing the soil of Britain, as it had frequently since the beginning of time. Severus knew he would feel guilty for those deaths for as long as he lived. Which, at least, was a length of time he was fairly convinced would be blessedly brief.

This particular day, Severus apparated from the edge of Hogwarts property directly to a Death Eater meeting, a security risk that wasn't made any more pleasant-feeling by the fact that it was unavoidable.

After the usual pomp-and-circumstance, ceremony, and robe-kissing that had once seemed exciting but now sickened Snape, the Dark Lord dismissed the meeting. Before anyone could even move, however, he turned abruptly on Severus, hissing at him quietly, "Nothing to report again today, I suppose?"

Snape cowered away from Voldemort in a gesture of fearful loyalty. Like a dog, he thought, hating himself for his weakness. But servitude to this evil wizard was so ingrained in Severus Snape by now that in Voldemort's presence he was still never anything but a loyal servant. His stomach turned every time he had to say the words "master" or "my lord", but they were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

"My lord, I--"

"If what you're about to say is an excuse of any sort, Severus, I would wipe the thought from my mind if I were you," Lord Voldemort cautioned in a quiet voice that chilled Snape to the bone. "Now I will ask you one more time. Do you have anything to report, or are you proving yourself once again to be completely worthless as a spy." It wasn't a question; rather, Voldemort's voice made it clear he was stating a fact.

This time, Snape promised himself, he wasn't going to say anything. He would not betray Dumbledore's trust anymore. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he knew was coming.

Sure enough, Voldemort's limited patience reached its end. "Very well," he said coolly, raising his wand. The last thing Snape saw was the flicker of cruel amusement in the Dark Lord's eyes as he hissed out the curse.

"Crucio."

Every time, Snape thought he wouldn't be able to bear it, would surely die from the pain. Every nerve in his body exploded, he felt like he was being consumed by fire and ice at the same time. Had Severus been able to form a coherent thought, he would have wished and prayed for death to come swiftly and end the pain. But for the few moments the spell was on him, he didn't even know he was human. All he was aware of, the focus of his entire world, was reduced to an acute awareness of his own suffering.

Snape had no grasp of the span of time the spell lasted, except that it seemed like an eternity. It must have been relatively short, however, because when Voldemort finally lowered his wand Snape was still hanging on to the last shreds of consciousness. It took a long time before he recovered enough to breathe, and when he did it was with a great, rasping gasp. He lay prone on the hard ground, unable to move.

Voldemort, looking quite satisfied, stared down at him with contempt. "You have until tomorrow to bring me something I can use. Now get up!" he snapped.

His defenses still down from the lingering remnants of the Cruciatus curse, the Death Eater Severus Snape still had buried in him kicked into autopilot. A worshipful look in his eyes that he would later remember with scorn and self-hatred, he reached out and took the edge of Voldemort's robe to kiss it. "Yes, master."

Voldemort smiled coldly. "Better." And he turned to go.

Somehow, Severus managed to draw himself to his feet. "There is one thing," he said hesitantly.

Voldemort turned back, the smile turning from cold to calculating. He stood silent, waiting.

"The Potters," Snape said quickly. "They've chosen a Secret Keeper." He grimaced, knowing this was bad news for Voldemort indeed. "I don't know who it is."

He prepared himself for another outburst of anger from the Dark Lord, but to his surprise his statement was met with nothing but silence. He looked at Lord Voldemort in surprise. There was a look of secret triumph on his face, and instead of punishing his failed spy, Voldemort laughed suddenly, a cold, cruel laugh.

"Well, Snape, you're lucky this time," Voldemort pronounced in measured terms. From the look on his face, he was enjoying this deliciously, and Snape couldn't understand it.

"_You_ don't know, but _I_ do." With that, Voldemort disapparated with an audible *pop*.

Snape immediately collapsed onto the ground, unable to move. Had his brain been functioning properly he would have been horrified at what he had just done, and even more horrified at Lord Voldemort's response. But he had temporarily lost his ability to think and rationalize with Voldemort's Cruciatus curse, and Severus completely missed the obvious conclusion that he _should_ have drawn: Whoever the traitor was, _that very person was acting as the Potters' Secret Keeper_. 

Snape lay in the clearing for a long before he was strong enough to apparate back to his home. By that time he realized that he'd once again given more information than he should have, and he felt sick with the self-hatred that was becoming almost as familiar to him as breathing. But he still missed the significance of Voldemort's parting comment.

He apparated out just as the sun was beginning to rise over the trees to the east, thinking only that if Voldemort didn't execute him as a spy, the continued Cruciatus curses would surely kill him just the same. Snape didn't know at the time that he'd just attended his last Death Eater meeting for more than a decade.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

__

Professor Snape paused outside the door to Dumbledore's office, suddenly struck by the feeling of familiarity. He'd stood right here so many times in his life, steeling up the courage to knock on the door and face the aged headmaster. Shaking away the powerful sense of déjà vu, he raised his fist and rapped on the door briskly.

He heard Dumbledore's voice through the wood asking him to come in, and he pushed open the heavy door. The headmaster looked up as he entered. His face was grim and worried, but there was no disappointment in his eyes. Only concern, and a bit of something Snape couldn't figure out. He didn't know it, but it was respect.

There was a long moment of silence as the two men stood facing each other, broken by Dumbledore. "Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes piercing.

Snape nodded wordlessly.

"You know the risks better than anyone," Dumbledore pointed out, his voice heavy.

Snape looked down for a moment. "You once told me," he replied. "That the price I paid weighed not nearly so heavy as what I would feel had I never tried at all."

For a brief instant all the worry disappeared from Dumbledore's face, replaced by a look of pleasant surprise at this lesson well learned.

But he questioned Snape once more. The commitment had to be freely made...the costs were potentially too high for it to be otherwise. Dumbledore would have trusted the man in front of him with his life, but when the lives of mankind as well are in your hands the stakes are infinitely higher. And though it had been a credit to himself, Severus Snape had proved once in his life that he was willing to betray his allies. So the question was posed again, the phrasing harsher now.

"I want to believe that what worked once can work again," the headmaster said. "That Voldemort will believe you have...reformed," Dumbledore didn't quite succeed in keeping a note of bitterness out of his voice at this, but he continued, "That you've seen the error of your ways and are fully on his side. Of course you won't be trusted as you once were, but quite possibly you can still be useful to us. But I can't lie to you and say I truly believe what I just described is a likely scenario. If you can't convince Voldemort of your loyalty, your life is worth about as much as if you walked out of this office and were hit by a bus."

Snape accepted this pronouncement in silence, without so much as a flinch. It was a conclusion he had reached long before.

"So," Dumbledore finished, watching him carefully. "This is it, Severus. You're sealing your fate. That's the way it has to be."

Severus Snape drew himself up to his full height and faced his old headmaster squarely. "This is crossing the Rubicon," he said firmly, as convinced of his decision as he'd ever been of anything. "And I cross."

And as simply as that, he willingly signed his life away to this man for the second time in his life.

__________

A/N: So....what do you think? Should I continue, or let this fic die the miserable death it probably deserves right now? PLEASE review this if you've made it this far, even flames will be welcomed! This is my first fanfic, so any and all advice, suggestions, comments, etc will be HUGELY appreciated!

Hmm...should Snape trust his brother like Charles assures him he should? What did the mysterious letter Snape destroyed say, and who was it from? What was the promise? Only time will tell, so review if you want the next part!

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed Part One, you know who you are! Mordra, I'm glad you like the historical references, that was actually what I was _most_ unsure about in the whole story, so I'm glad someone enjoyed the little random tangent about Rommel! I've always seen a lot of parallels between Snape and a few of Hitler's more conscientious generals. :-) And I thought I'd throw it in, since I'm trying to do something different with this one, though it's hard since Snapefics have been done so often by now.

So! REVIEW please, because otherwise I won't take the time to continue with this!


	4. Part 3--The Rest is Silence

****

The Price You Pay  
Part Three -- The Rest is Silence

__

In the final days of Lord Voldemort's rise, a younger Severus Snape is about to learn that in the dangerous game he's playing, betrayal can come from anywhere.

DISCLAIMER: I own nuthin' you see here, not even the chapter title. Well, on second thought I guess I own Charles Snape...but someone else can have Charles, 'cause I don't particularly want anything to do with him after this installment!

A/N: Sorry for the huge delay on this part, Life interfered with Writing yet again. This part is dedicated to Emma (Andromeda_2k), my wonderful beta-reader who somehow convinced me that this was worth posting!

Part Three -- "The Rest is Silence"

The sharp voice called out loudly, cutting across the noisy chatter of a regular 3 p.m. in the Hog's Head. 

"Oh, Snape...Earth to Severus Snape!"

Startled, Snape's head snapped up from the empty glass he'd been clutching in his hand for the last thirty minutes, trying unsuccessfully to empty his mind. It was only mid-afternoon and he was just starting to feel the effects of the Ogden's Old Firewhisky, but he knew that even getting drunk wouldn't help him today.

For one thing, he hurt everywhere. The shock to one's body from having every pain nerve fired for an indecently long amount of time didn't wear off overnight, and Severus had woken up wondering if his bedclothes were possibly on fire and he hadn't noticed. The pain from yesterday's Cruciatus Curse had subsided now into a sort of persistent ache, only slightly more bearable in its intensity.

Now he suppressed a groan as Evan Rosier slid into the booth across from him. "Last person I expected to see here," his old housemate said. "What are you doing in town?"

"Business," Snape replied coolly, knowing Rosier would take that to mean business for the Dark Lord and wouldn't dare question him further. Severus had advanced through the ranks of the Death Eaters faster than any of his old school crowd except the Lestranges, and the few times he saw Rosier, Avery, Wilkes and the rest now they seemed eager to cling to him, to stay in his good graces. Which behavior Snape found almost as annoying as he'd found them in school, when _he_ had been the outcast due to his family's amazing talent for sitting on the fence where Grindelwald and Voldemort were concerned.

In truth, he had come here because he couldn't force himself to go to Hogwarts, though he knew he should warn Dumbledore about his exchange with Lord Voldemort the night before. He couldn't bring himself to admit he had betrayed the headmaster's trust. And even more disturbing was Voldemort's reaction of seeming unconcern to the news of the Potters choosing a Secret Keeper. Once again, there was a vague feeling in the back of his mind that he'd stumbled upon something important, and he had all the evidence he needed, but somehow the inevitable conclusion eluded his grasp once more.

"I'm here on business too," Rosier supplied unasked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

Snape's gaze wavered angrily. He'd lost it. The warning conclusion that had flickered into his mind for a brief instant was gone. He came very close to cursing at Evan Rosier, who was looking almost unbearably proud of himself as he continued.

"Recruiting mission for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named -- it's a Hogsmeade weekend for some of the older Hogwarts students." He grinned. "Remember when we were here, Severus, meeting with the Death Eater recruiters for the first time?"

__

Oh, for God's sake, call him by his name, Snape thought irritably. "Actually, Rosier, you guys left me behind that day, remember?" he asked coldly, growing impatient with the conversation. Severus himself had been recruited in slightly more...unconventional...means.

He almost smiled at the look on his fellow Death Eater's face. Rosier's smile had disappeared, replaced with a look not so much of discomfort but of immediate fear.

"Oh, why -- we knew even then that the Dark Lord would wish to approach you more directly, Severus. We--" Rosier's pathetic attempt to make up for his blunder hung in the air between them for a long moment.

"Has it occurred to you, Rosier, that I may be waiting to meet someone just as you are?" Snape asked in a voice that could have frozen water, beginning to enjoy himself now. His last couple years in Slytherin after Charles graduated had been a living hell of isolation and forced introversion. The resulting bitterness had been one of the key factors leading the intelligent but very alone young boy directly to the promise of Lord Voldemort's New Order.

"Oh, yes, of course," Rosier mumbled unhappily, jumping to his feet. He played nervously with the hat clutched in his hands before shoving its crumpled form back on his head. "Yes, of course. Well, I'll be seeing you, I dare say, Severus. Must go find a table to meet the students." With that, he left very quickly.

Severus grabbed his wand from its spot beside him on the bench and stood up, leaving the empty glass on the table. Hogwarts could wait. It was too dangerous now anyway, now that he'd been seen in such close vicinity to the castle with no valid excuse. He had no desire to sit here and watch Evan Rosier charm a bunch of seventh-year Slytherins with talk of power and wealth and the tantalizing lure of privileged elitism. A lie the truth of which they would learn soon enough. He stalked outside and Apparated directly back to Snape Manor.

And froze where he stood, suddenly swept by a sick wave of nausea.

The Dark Mark hung suspended in the air above the stately, elegant house. The skull and serpent Snape had burned on his own arm grinned terribly at him, mocking.

__

No.

All Severus's thoughts coalesced into that one simple word of denial and abject horror. He had known Voldemort would surely discover his treachery, had imagined the consequences of his role as double agent so many times...but it had always been his own death he was imagining. Not this. _Oh, no_.

Sick with dread at what he knew he would find inside, Severus slowly made his way into the house. _No, no, no_.

He found them immediately, under the carved archway of the entrance hall, and every possibility of denial disappeared in a shattering instant.

His parents and younger sister, their bodies pale and still in death, battered horribly. They had not been killed quickly, that much was clear by the amount of blood pooling around what remained of his family members. Across the room, a distance away from the bodies, a single word was scrawled unevenly in blood on the hardwood floor:

REVENGE

This had not been a simple hit, accomplished quickly and wiped from mind afterward -- the Dark wizards responsible had clearly enjoyed themselves. Such gruesome treatment was usually reserved for Muggles and Muggle-born wizards -- it was rare for pureblood wizards outside of the Resistance's inner circle to be tortured for no reason but the sheer fun of it before the final merciful killing curse, the way the three bodies here had been. Snape turned away, swallowing hard to prevent the growing nausea from overpowering him completely. He squeezed his eyes shut.

A mistake. Immediately the darkness in front of his eyes was replaced by an image of Lestrange, Mulciber and himself at a massacre of Muggles in a quiet pub the year before. The same sort of destruction, of complete lack of regard for the sanctity of human life. And he had taken part in that, still remembered the feeling of immense power, so different from his first murder of the old Auror. His eyes snapped open, a new thought exponentially increasing the sickness.

__

Divine retribution, Snape.

Snape turned back around and crossed the room, careful to avoid looking at the remains of his parents and Robin. It was impossible to avoid the blood, he discovered. A small table stood to the side of the room, and on it Severus found three wands that had once belonged to his family, each broken cleanly in half. The order of the neat little pile among the chaos of the rest of the room was striking, an insult to the destruction behind him. Propped up against the wands lay a folded piece of parchment. Blood soaked one of the corners, darkening now as it dried.

Wrapped in a sense of sickened inevitability, Snape picked up the parchment and unfolded it, momentarily surprised that his hand wasn't shaking.

It was a short note written with green ink, in a cramped, spiky handwriting that somehow managed to look decidedly sinister. The simple text made him go cold all over, and it was then that he began to tremble uncontrollably:

_

> Do not think for a second, Severus, my friend, that this ends here. Those who betray Lord Voldemort pay with their lives--and your turn will come. But first you will watch everyone you have ever loved disappear in blood and flame. Only then, when you will have wished for death long before, will it finally come. This is the price you pay for the choices you make.  
V.

_

Charles.

He had to find Charles, warn him to flee. That was all that mattered to him, getting his last remaining family member out from under the death sentence Severus had inadvertently brought down on all of them. Fearing that he may already be too late, nearly paralyzed by the fear of finding another Dark Mark hovering over his brother's house, Snape Apparated directly to the front hall of Charles's London residence.

He found Charles in the living room with Erin, engaged in what looked like another wedding planning session. "Charles," Severus gasped as he half-stumbled into the room, relief flooding through him at the sight of his brother alive and well.

"Severus!" Erin exclaimed in surprise, jumping to her feet. He must look awful, he realized, blood soaking the bottom of his robes and a haggard, haunted look on his face.

Charles had also leapt to his feet at his brother's entrance, but the look of surprise in his eyes was very different. He looked as if he were seeing a ghost, so great was the shock etched on his face. "What are you doing here?"

Haltingly, Snape did his best to explain: "I came from the house. Father and Mother, Robin...they're all -- they're dead. Lord Voldemort--"

Erin gasped and her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes sad. "Oh, Charles," she said, looking swiftly to her fiancé.

Charles seemed not to hear her, however. Instead, he was staring at Severus, a thousand emotions passing across his face in quick succession. As Severus watched, the immediate look of horror and grief faded into something that looked startlingly like remorse. This expression quickly hardened into one even more puzzling, however -- a glare of coldness bordering on hatred.

In one terrible instant, the realization of what must have happened slammed into the pit of Snape's stomach. Charles's surprise at seeing him, the reaction of _remorse_ at the news of their parents' death, the fact that someone must have betrayed him to the Dark Lord...and most of all, Charles's suspicion of his brother's non-existent relationship with Erin and the strange look of triumph in his eyes when Severus had revealed his role as a double agent for Dumbledore.

__

My brother.

It was a full ten seconds before Severus remembered how to breathe, and when he did managed to draw a shaky breath he found he still couldn't speak. Charles said nothing, a shocked look still on his face. Clearly, he had never expected his actions to have such devastating consequences. Severus felt a fresh wave of nausea sweep over at him at the realization that his own brother had found his death an acceptable means to an end -- and how could he have been so _stupid_! How could he have underestimated the power he was playing with so devastatingly, have made the decision to betray his own blood when everyone knew that to Lord Voldemort, blood was strong enough that the sins of the son would be visited upon the father and mother and sister and himself as well?

Erin was crying silently, and the sound brought Severus back to the harsh reality of the moment.

"Erin, will you please leave the room," Snape said flatly. It was an order, not a question. All of a sudden, Erin had ceased to become important. Severus's whole world at that moment consisted of the knowledge that his brother, his confidant, his best friend since they were children, had betrayed him to Lord Voldemort. The reasons didn't matter, his own feelings for the girl didn't matter, nothing mattered anymore except that his family was dead and he was left alive and he didn't want to be.

"Severus, I--" Erin began.

"Now, Erin," Charles said, speaking for the first time. Her eyes widened a bit at the venom in his voice, but she left quietly toward the back of the house.

Severus and Charles stared at each other for a long time. Severus wore the haunted expression of someone who has just had every belief he ever held shattered cruelly and handed back to him with a smile. Charles's face, on the other hand, was icily defiant now. If he still felt remorse or sadness, he was doing a beautiful job of hiding it behind a wall of flint worthy of Salazar Slytherin himself.

"Why--?" Snape began, realizing he didn't need to know, that he just wanted to inflict as much pain on Charles as he was feeling right now, as much as Robin and their parents must have felt in the moments before they were murdered.

"Don't look at me like that, Severus," Charles said into the tense silence. "If I were you I'd try to stay out of lectures about morality."

He couldn't come up with an answer to that fast enough, and Charles continued in a quiet voice.

"Come on, Severus. You were in Slytherin. The ends justify the means, isn't that the philosophy?"

"I was your brother. I trusted you!" Severus cursed himself inwardly - he hadn't meant his voice to shake so much.

Did Charles have soul enough left to be hurt by the pain in Severus's voice as he unconsciously referred to their relationship in the past tense? Snape thought, just for a moment, that Charles paused, that his face showed a moment of -- regret? hurt? Or simply rage?

Charles's voice when he responded after that momentary pause, however, was silky with malice. "Ah, but you still are, little brother. And trust is dangerous. You know that."

This was more than Severus could take. Without thinking, he yanked his wand from his robes and flung out his arm, training the wand on his brother.

"Go ahead, Severus. Kill me," Charles interrupted hastily. It had the desired effect; the words on Severus's tongue were cut off before the curse could be completed. "You've had lots of practice at that, I'm sure," his brother added more confidently now, his gaze flickering for the briefest of seconds to Severus's wand. "But remember, if you say those words right now, you're no better than I am."

"I don't care!" Snape retorted bitterly, still covering his brother with his wand. He knew he sounded like a desperate child, knew and didn't care now as he fumbled for the right words, the words he'd used so many times before without knowing the hatred behind them now. And the love. The confusion made him feel sick again, and he blanched, swallowing hard. "Avada Keda -- Avada Ke..."

He couldn't do it. Slowly, Severus lowered his wand. There was a tense moment of silence, and Charles's eyes lit up in triumph. At the flash in his brother's eyes, however, the lump of tears in Severus's throat dissolved at once, replaced by a kind of bitter rage that far surpassed any emotion that had led him to the Death Eaters.

"Get out, Charles. Get out of the country," he said, his voice deathly quiet and low. "I don't care where, just out of Britain. Out of Voldemort's reach. He won't care that you helped him."

"From murderous to concerned in five seconds flat," Charles intoned dryly. "Touching, Severus, truly touch--"

"Be gone by tomorrow. I don't ever want to see you or hear from you again," Severus said, his voice shaking with equal parts of rage and confusion. "Tomorrow, or I'll make sure you pay for what you've done today. By Lord Voldemort's hand...or mine."

Charles's dark eyes flicked to his brother's wand again, and Snape could almost see the internal struggle between his pride and instincts of self-preservation. Severus had always been the better wizard, and they both knew it. In the end, the logic won out. Once again Severus thought he saw some unreadable, haunted expression flash in and out of his brother's eyes. Or maybe not, maybe it was only his imagination. Whatever the look had been, it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"You always did run from your problems, Sev," Charles remarked with forced lightness. Then, with a cool dignity that hid feelings Snape would guess at and agonize over for the rest of his life, he swept from the room.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

__

Severus stood leaning against a tree in the Forbidden Forest, just off the Hogwarts grounds, remembering the last time he'd been here and wondering how he'd ended up back at this particular juncture in his life.

"You always did run from your problems, Sev," his brother's voice rang through the hollows of his mind, the mocking tone amplified by over a decade of distance.

Snape swore quietly, a muttered oath that surprised even him in its intensity. I do not_, he told himself fiercely._

Then what the hell are you leaning against this tree for, Sev?_ he snarled silently, self-mockingly using the affectionate shortening of his name that Charles had been the only one ever to get away with._

"Dammit, you don't know anything about me!" he whispered aloud at his brother's memory, glaring with contempt at the empty air. And as if to prove it, he Disapparated.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

He stood for a long time in the middle of his brother's living room, frozen. To anyone who saw him at that moment, he would have appeared deep in thought. But in truth, he felt numbness above any other emotion -- everyone has a breaking point, and Severus Snape had been pushed well beyond his.

Where was he supposed to go now? he asked himself. Not home. Never home again. He couldn't face the sight of his parents' ruined house -- perhaps it too closely echoed the state of his own soul.

Snape Apparated out without consciously knowing where it would take him, not caring much if he did get splinched. He was therefore somewhat surprised when he ended up at the nearest Apparation point to Hogwarts, but he set off for the castle anyway, all of a sudden feeling eleven years old again. _Dumbledore_. The Headmaster would sort things out. Slipping back into a childish faith that had been disillusioned already once before, Snape quickened his stride.

He burst into Dumbledore's office without knocking this time. The Headmaster was seated at his desk, Remus Lupin and Mundungus Fletcher in chairs across the office. All three men sprang to their feet at Snape's entry. It didn't matter. He had no cover to worry about anymore.

Severus watched as the surprise on Lupin's and Fletcher's face turned to various shades of dark hatred. It was clear that not all members of the Resistance knew of his role as a double agent.

"Mr. Snape," Fletcher said coolly, his green eyes glittering with ice.

Remus Lupin, his old childhood enemy, was more vocal. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked. "You have a lot of nerve, coming here --"

"That's enough, Remus," Dumbledore said calmly, speaking for the first time. His eyes never left Severus's face, which was paler than usual and still wearing a stricken expression that the others hadn't noticed through their suspicion. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but I need to speak to Severus alone. We will continue this discussion tomorrow." He still didn't look at them, his piercing blue gaze cutting right through Severus the whole time.

The two men left, their expressions throwing daggers at Snape.

There was a long silence after the door closed behind them. Dumbledore broke it first. "What happened?" he asked quietly, staring hard at the devastated and sober young man in front of him.

"You need to know that my cover's been blown," Snape managed flatly, unable to put emotion into his voice.

He had managed to catch Dumbledore off-guard this time. The old wizard's face changed indefinably for a fraction of a second, and his gaze became even more probing. Even through his grief and the hard wall he was building around himself and his emotions by the second, Severus knew what a blow this was to Dumbledore's Cause.

"How?" questioned Dumbledore after that moment of silence.

__

My brother, Snape answered silently, the words running through his mind repetitively. _I told him, this is my fault, it's my fault they're dead_...

Snape opened his mouth to answer, almost told Dumbledore the truth. But something -- Slytherin pride, maybe, or possibly just the feeling that saying it out loud would make it real -- stopped him. "I don't know," he lied. Emotion definitely made it into his voice this time, so vehemently that Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

Dumbledore gestured Snape to a chair, but Severus remained where he was.

"Severus," Dumbledore said quietly.

"No," he replied, desperation in his voice now. Slowly, in agonizing detail, he told Dumbledore the story of finding the bodies of his parents and younger sister, the condition they'd been in. He made little mention of Charles, only that he'd gone to London and warned his brother to flee.

He couldn't say it out loud, couldn't admit to anyone the horrible guilt he felt that he'd been so _trusting_, so _stupid_ to confide in Charles Snape when so many lives could be destroyed by the secret. It was easier to seal himself off from the guilt and betrayal and anguish, to force the emotions to the back of his conscious and instead hide behind a wall of cold and bitter fortitude. It was a tactic the younger Snape had developed in his Hogwarts days, the lonely years of isolation at the beginning of Lord Voldemort's rise -- and it was made all the easier now by the cold rage he felt at his brother, at Lord Voldemort...at himself...

Snape's voice quavered as he finished his story, but it wasn't a repressed sob. Rather, a dangerous gleam was beginning to appear in Severus's eyes, an iciness that even Dumbledore found chilling.

The Headmaster must have noticed Snape's very loose contact with sanity, because the moment Snape fell silent he rose and took charge of the situation. "You will remain here at Hogwarts until we figure out what to do next," he said. Then, in a gentler tone, "I'll have someone look after the affairs at your parents' house." He looked at Snape for a long moment with his penetrating gaze, seeming to guess what he was thinking, and added, "Lord Voldemort will not win in the end, Severus."

Snape shook his head angrily, jumping to his feet. "I'm going after him," he declared, already heading for the door.

"You will _not_," Dumbledore commanded in the sharpest voice Severus had ever heard him use. "That is what's called a suicide mission, Severus."

"I don't care!" snapped Snape in response, stepping away from Dumbledore and towards the door. _Good_, he thought savagely. Somewhere in his mind he recognized the sheer insanity of the plan, realized how little chance he'd stand against a wizard of the Dark Lord's power. But he didn't care. His life was worth less than nothing now, as far as he was concerned. The fact that it was a suicide mission was part of what made it so attractive.

Dumbledore regarded the young man with a deeply sad look. "Severus," he said again heavily, taking a step towards him. "You will spend the night at Hogwarts, and that's an order. Tomorrow is another day. We will see."

Something in the Headmaster's eyes, usually so calm and contemplative, told Snape that argument would be a pointless mistake. Dumbledore had done enough for him already, and now, when so few people in the wizarding world would even trust him at all, he was offering Severus a place to stay. He allowed himself to be led to the bedroom off an unused professor's office and given a potion to help him sleep.

When Severus was alone in the small bedroom, however, his earlier resolve returned with even more force. He sat upright in bed, planning the next day's events. He would find Lord Voldemort and kill him, curse him before any of the wizards who were constantly with the Dark Lord could so much as draw their own wands. Snape laughed bitterly to himself, intellectually knowing the impossibility of what he planned to do. It would take only a matter of seconds before Voldemort or his bodyguards responded. But maybe...just maybe, he could get off one good curse before the end. Yes, revenge for today would be won -- and if the price was his life, then so be it.

He felt his eyelids droop heavily. Damn him for taking that Dreamless Sleep potion the headmaster had given him.

Tomorrow, he promised himself. Everything will be repaid tomor--

And Severus fell into a heavily drugged sleep in the middle of the thought.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

__

Professor Snape Apparated into the cemetery by the old Riddle house. A chill swept over him at the heavy silence that lay over the graveyard, but he remained still for a long time nonetheless. He had ignored the call from the Dark Mark on his arm last time, the day of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, until it was too late. Now he would have to convince Lord Voldemort that he had seen the error of his ways, that he was truly on his side this time and that he would never betray the Death Eaters again.

He knew the Dark Lord too well to believe he would succeed.

But he would try.

He owed that to Dumbledore, to his family's memory, to James and Lily, most of all to himself.

Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders against the wind, Severus made his way towards the house and the past he desperately wanted to forget.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

__

November 1, 1981

Snape awoke with a start the next morning, blinking his eyes open slowly and trying to remember why he was there. When the memory of the last day came slamming back, he sat bolt upright in bed. He was horrified to find a midday sun filtering in through the window of the small room. How long had they let him sleep?

Severus jumped out of bed, hastily pulling on his robes and doing his best not to think. The less he thought the better. He would just do it, make some excuse to Dumbledore and leave to find Lord Voldemort. Who was probably looking for him already, Snape thought grimly, remembering the note still in the pocket of his robes.

He found Dumbledore in his office, stopping outside the door and listening to the snatches of conversation for a moment: "Black...Ministry...Fudge...Azkaban..._Peter Pettigrew_...."

Then, impatient at the thought of time already lost, Snape walked into the office after a quick knock on the door. There scene was very much the same as the day before, except that Lupin and Fletcher had been replaced by Mad-Eye Moody, the old Auror. This time, however, the mood was very, very different, and he immediately wondered what was wrong. Dumbledore looked tired and sorrowful. Lines and shadows of exhaustion hung around his eyes, which held a look that Severus couldn't interpret. It was deeply sad, but there was a hint of a tightly controlled triumph there as well. He suddenly realized how very old the Headmaster was.

"Severus," Dumbledore said quietly at his entrance. "Please sit down, there's something you need to know."

With a wary glance at the Auror, who was glaring at him with a look that could only be described as pure hatred, Snape sank into a chair across the desk from Dumbledore.

The Headmaster sighed heavily, templing his fingers under his chin and staring down at a pile of papers on his desk. "James and Lily Potter were killed last night," he began, and was cut off by Severus's sharp intake of breath. All of a sudden, the memory of his last confrontation with Lord Voldemort two days earlier came back, and this time he realized with a strangely dead feeling that the Dark Lord had told him everything he'd needed to be able to tell Dumbledore exactly who the traitor was. And he'd done nothing....

"Who was their Secret Keeper?" he asked quietly, his stomach clenched into a ball of guilt that he mentally forced himself to shelve with every other emotion to which he had deadened himself in the last twenty-four hours.

"Dumbledore, you can't tell him that!" Moody cut in reflexively, shooting Snape another suspicious glare.

Dumbledore sighed, looking back and forth between the two men. "It doesn't matter now, does it, Alastor?" he asked. Then he turned back to Severus. His eyes were dark with sadness. "Sirius Black."

Snape's eyes widened. He could still clearly remember Sirius beating him up once a month for seven years at Hogwarts. He could also remember how close Black had been to Potter and Lily Evans. Another betrayal. He closed his eyes momentarily. _Stop thinking about it_.

Alastor Moody looked appalled Dumbledore's lapse in security. He rose and bowed slightly to Dumbledore. "I have things to take care of," he excused himself. Severus got the distinct impression that old Mad-Eye felt a little lost, like he didn't know quite what to do with himself all of a sudden. The Auror swept from the office, still looking quite horrified, and a tiny, exhausted smile danced around the edges of Dumbledore's lips for a brief moment before he continued.

"Severus, something very unusual happened at the Potters home last night. Something we may never fully understand. After killing James and Lily, Lord Voldemort's curse failed against their son, little Harry, rebounding against the Dark Lord himself. He's gone, Severus. His powers, at least, maybe Voldemort himself. It's over."

Snape felt like something inside himself had splintered all over again. He stared in horror at Dumbledore, unable to wrap his mind around the enormity of the news. A young boy, an infant, and he had managed to do what Snape would have given his life to accomplish. And by doing it, had robbed Severus of any chance to avenge the deaths of his family and so free himself from the guilt...

One thing he knew for sure: he would never be able to forgive the Boy Who Lived, little Harry Potter, for condemning him to this life of self-hatred.

His parents. Robin. James. Lily.

All deaths that he had caused, one way or another. By carelessness. By the foolishness of trust and love. Unforgivable lapses on his part, and ones which he would never allow to happen again.

Dumbledore seemed to guess the thought behind the pain in Snape's eyes.

"You've paid a price I wouldn't have chosen for your actions, Severus, and the guilt weighs heavy on you," he said, his eyes serious. "But not nearly so heavy, I would suggest, as the guilt you would feel had you never tried at all."

Severus remained silent, suddenly overwhelmed, and Dumbledore continued. "I can't bring your family back to you, nor undo the remorse you feel at your hand in their deaths," the headmaster said gently. The familiar disappointment was gone from his eyes now. It would never come back. "All I can offer you is the thanks of everything that is right for what you _did_ do. The rest...."

He shrugged wordlessly.

Snape never learned what Dumbledore had been about to say. Instead of finishing his sentence, the headmaster gave him a last kindly look and exited, leaving Severus alone in his office.

All over England, the wizarding world celebrated the survival of the Boy Who Lived, the tiny boy with a lightning scar on his forehead who would that day begin a new existence with relatives he had never seen.

Severus Snape remained alone at Hogwarts castle, nothing but his own thoughts and guilt and self-hatred to help him pick up the pieces from which he would have to rebuild his life.

__________

A/N: Not a very happy ending for a story, is it? But then Snape's not a very happy guy, I don't think...

Thanks SO much to everyone who reviewed the first 2 parts of this, and also to everyone who reviewed _Indiscretions_! You guys are the greatest, your comments mean so much to me, especially since I tend to be really pessimistic about my writing ability and this has been my first attempt at fanfiction. So, everyone who's been kind enough to review, it means more than I can express!

Okay, enough from me! Just review! ;-)


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